I parked on a side street and walked towards the bar. A couple was sitting at one of the tables directly next to the bar door.
The man looked liked a biker; he was tall, too thin (almost crack thin), had a black skull & bones do-rag on his head, old stonewashed jeans and roughed up leather boots. He was smoking Marlboro Reds and drinking beer from a tall glass.
The woman with him looked worn. Her leathery skin made her look about 55 years old, but she was probably 30. She had what local Floridians call “crocodile” skin; dry and cracked. She seemed a little fucked up. Not drunk, probably just some pills.
She had a white chicken on her left shoulder. He/she was just sitting on her shoulder looking nervously around, like chickens do.
“Is that a chicken on a crocodile-skinned woman’s shoulder sitting outside a bar,” I silently asked myself. I knew 100% that I had never dropped acid, but I was suddenly wondering if someone slipped me some.
People walking by were marveling at this sight. Apparently I wasn’t the only person dumbfounded by this fuckery.
A man stopped and asked her, “Is that a pet chicken, can I pet it?”
Crocodile-skin lady smiled, revealing a missing tooth right where the vampire tooth is supposed to be, “Yep, he’s our pet chicken. His name is Chuck. Yep, Chuck the Chicken. Go ahead and pet him,” she said. Continue reading “Chuck the Chicken- a Florida bar”
aMediocreMan 